That's it. I'm writing cringe now. Just for me. If you want to look at the cognitohazards I've cooked up that's on you pal. I'm not even going to proofread. I've gone low and I'll go lower.
Current Cringeworks:
“Lost Wanderer” GN Reader X Book!Frankenstein’s Creature (Platonic)
I'm doing a bit of research for a story of mine about a character that watches the corruption of a small town around him. Some of the research is based off my own observations from living in a small town myself, especially as a neurodivergent person.
Is the unfortunate tendency to equate normal=good, especially if you've been neurodivergent your whole life and you've been taught that different=bad, then normal=good.
But there's a lot of behaviors that go around small towns that are very common and very toxic at the same time. But since common=normal and normal=good, it can lead people to follow these behaviors in step and punish people who don't.
Like yelling and swearing at your kids and spouse. Or gossiping about others and making fun of them. Making fun of poor people. Judging people based on their family lineage. Triangulating people and making sure they don't get the same access to goods and services that the more "preferable" people do. Grouping up and excluding certain people. And making sure the people who don't do these behaviors get the same treatment.
This is all just to say, be critical of every behavior you see, and ask yourself if the "normal" person is really something worth becoming.
Late night franken posting part 2!! I did this painting of the creature after 500 beers. This is kinda how i envisioned him after reading the book, but the painting didn’t turn out quite as horrific and uncanny as i would’ve liked. Anyway i dont hate it, I may attempt a more hideous version in the future but for now i bestow upon thee, a creature feature featuring the creature
People who make film adaptations: "Well, we had to make this character more visually appealing so the audience could empathize with them"
Why? What do you mean? Aren't you a writer? Don't you hire actors? What is the purpose of making good fiction if you cannot learn to engage with the audience? What is the purpose of being an audience if you cannot engage with yourself? Are you afraid to test your own moral limits? Are you afraid that no, you don't have the goodness inside you to have empathy for something or someone not like you? Do you force the ugly to become beautiful because you are scared of what you will or won't find in yourself?
When out shopping, take care to leave as minimal a mess as you can for the store employees. This includes doing your best to put things back where you found them, and with clothing items that need to be folded a specific way either putting them on the return rack or giving them to an employee who can put it back properly rather than just wadding it up and shoving it somewhere.
This is especially important when food shopping if you change your mind on a perishable food item. If you take a perishable food item, and set it somewhere that's room temperature after you change your mind on it, then the store will have to throw it away for food safety reasons when they find it later. There's no way to tell how long that carton of yogurt or pouch of tofu was sitting there, so now it's no longer safe to sell and needs to be tossed out. This needlessly contributes to food waste which is already a big enough problem.
Some people will make jokes about "job security" when intentionally putting something they changed their mind about somewhere it doesn't belong. People who tend to do this tend not to realize how busy and overworked retail workers already are, especially these days most stores are under staffed due to companies trying to cut costs at the expense of their employees.
If you absolutely cannot put something back, maybe you're having a sudden flair up of your disability / health condition and are unable to walk back to the area you got the thing you changed your mind on from, or maybe you really need to run right now to catch the next bus. Then at least try to give it back to a store employee as you're leaving instead of just shoving it on a random shelf.
(USA) stores often have go-back stations and collection carts for exactly this kind of thing. If you're unable to put the item back yourself and all else fails, you can hand it to an employee at checkout and tell them you changed your mind on it. They'll take care of it!
Lost Wanderer - Frankenstein's Creature x GN Reader (Platonic)
Chapter 13: Watcher
“You promise you will come back to me?”Â
“Yes. I have promised you several times by now.”Â
You and Leshy stood nearby a long road that led to the first village that you had come across. Despite several reassurances, he was anxious that you would abandon him.Â
“I will try to leave the town in one day’s time,” you explained again. “Meet me on the other side in the woods. I will leave at night to find you, and no one will see either of us. If I am sure I’m not being followed, I will call out for you. Hopefully we’ll be able to find each other.”Â
“I am stealthy,” he replied. “I will be watching.” But he rubbed one of his arms in a slouching posture, clearly unsure of himself.Â
“Are you worried about being spotted?” you asked. Perhaps you leaving wasn’t the only thing putting him on his guard.Â
“I am…This place is similar to one I had been before. I was starving. When I smelled food, I came near, then…Many screamed…Threw stones. A woman could not bear the sight of me and fainted, causing others to double their efforts to strike me…I did not understand, yet, what I was…But I was made to.”Â
You placed your hand gently on his arm. He flinched, and did not look at you.Â
“Don’t put yourself in danger for my sake, please. Stay out of sight as much as you can.”
He nodded.Â
You slung your pack over your shoulder. “I will be back.”Â
During the following day you did your best to make ends meet. With what little money you had, you went to the bakers and bought bread hard enough to keep well. There were other odds and ends for supplies you bought, but it was clearly not enough. Keeping your bag tightly strapped to you, you looked for work for the day, begging people to allow you to do small tasks for some sort of pay.Â
Most were not welcoming.Â
By sunset, you had gathered only a few coins for helping to unload carts or the luggage of travelers. One man, a blacksmith, had even promised you payment for your services in helping him move baskets of ore-tomorrow. He was expecting a client to pick up some tools that had been made for selling in another city, and only by then he said he would have enough to pay you back.Â
This was extremely unlikely, but you were at least going to stay to see if he was trustworthy enough to pay you back.Â
 At an inn, you asked the keeper’s wife if there were any tasks you could do for a room. She outright refused, but said if you could help with the washing, you could at least sleep in the stable.Â
After days of lying on the beds that your friend had made for you, it wouldn’t be something you weren’t used to, in the very least.Â
You thanked her anyway, and did her bidding for that night. She even gave you some of the burnt scraps from the food they served. It was late when she finally released you to rest. Silently, you cursed yourself for not learning any special skills that you could have charged for, like the other people in your band you had travelled with-
You looked up and were taken aback. On a piece of parchment on the wall near the door was an illustration of a man you were all too familiar with.Â
Rendered in ink from a wood block print was Kleiner, the leader of the band you had run from. An older gentleman who had acted almost fatherly at first, but claimed he was a scholar outcast from higher society. He spoke several languages fluently, and showed an air of ease and politeness that was uncommon. He had been welcoming. Then he had been brutal.Â
It was only after a few weeks that you knew him as not an old gentleman scholar, but the leader of a band of violent thieves. This group of stragglers had their own wagons and tents, and went from town to town. The injured ones he deployed as beggars and pick-pockets. You had also witnessed him purposefully infecting their faces with sores and dirt to “improve” their wretchedness. Some he taught magic tricks, or gambling games, fortune telling, or far worse employment-but always there was a wicked trick at the end to the buyer. The strongest ones were highwaymen and guards for his camp, and punishers for all who didn’t fall in line.Â
Once you were in Kleiner’s band, there was only one way you could leave. And if you didn’t do what he wanted, or if he found no use for you, that would be what he did. That was why he found only the most hopeless and friendless. Because no one would ever look for them if they went missing.Â
But you had escaped. And right now it was clear that his reputation had caught up to him. At one point, when you were more naive, you had been seen with his band. With dread you realized that if anyone in this town had figured out that association, something terrible would be done to you in retaliation.Â
You couldn’t stay in this town much longer.Â
For just one night, you made your way to the stables, and lay down on the only pile of clean straw you could find. But before you could even attempt to close your eyes, a voice called out to you.Â
It was an old woman. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she stated. In her hands was a large but extremely worn quilt. “I came to give you this. I’ve seen you out in the streets, and I know it will become very cold tonight. Here,” she offered it to you with a smile.Â
“Thank you very much,” you replied.Â
Suddenly she stopped, and her head tilted. “You look rather familiar. Perhaps I have seen you before?”Â
“I…I’m not sure that you have. At least, I don’t believe we’ve met.”Â
“Hmm…how very odd.”Â
She was quiet for a bit, and seemed to stare you down.Â
“Oh well, no matter.” She smiled again. “I am a forgetful old woman after all,” she teased. Turning away, she wished you a good night.Â
It was only after her footsteps had faded away that you even tried to relax. No, you couldn’t stay here any longer.Â
Your hand rested against the patchwork blanket. It was extremely large, very worn, and had been pieced together time and time again, as shown by the obvious stitchwork. But despite its appearance, it was comforting.Â
Perhaps even, it could be big enough to shield your friend from the cold. He and the blanket shared many attributes. Large, looking almost pieced together, worn. It would have been a great comfort to have his watchful gaze with you now.Â
The blacksmith had been honest, and had paid you in full what he promised. But it was clear that he was hoping you’d be intimidated by his gruff demeanor and not ask him again. Little did he know that you had spent a long time with someone much more intimidating than he.Â
But that person you were eagerly awaiting to see again. Though no one had ever thrown rocks at you like they had done him, it was clear that suspicions were rising against your very presence. No honest business, no family, and no reason to be in this town other than traveling, you saw people’s smiles vanish as you walk by, and how certain shop owners made it a point to follow you closely as you perused their wares. Especially now that you had in tow a very large quilt over your shoulder, which you made a point of airing it out in the street casually, to make a silent message to those watching that you hadn’t stolen anything beneath its folds.Â
You thanked whatever lucky stars you had when the sun set that night. And like you had promised, you left. The moon gave you just enough light to try and make your way into the forest. At moments you paused, listening for following steps. You heard nothing. After minutes more of walking, you decided to test your friend’s stealth that he had boasted of. Maybe he had found you.Â
“Leshy! Leshy!” you called.Â
Instantly some branches started snapping in the distance, approaching fast. Instinctively you flinched, the sound was so much like a charging bear or wild animal. But when the shape appeared between the trees, it was much too tall. And the sight that once frightened you made you now sigh in relief.Â
“Leshy!”
He looked more relieved than you, a wide too-white smile glowing in the moonlight. “You came back!” Â
“I promised I would, didn’t I? I am glad you found me so quickly.”
“I had heard you walking from afar off, but did not approach. I could not be sure…”Â
He didn’t finish his sentence. You were about to ask him what he had meant to say before he turned to you again.Â
“I have made a camp for you, and a new place for you to sleep. May I carry something for you? I can show you the way.” He reached his hands out eagerly.Â
“Yes, that would be nice. You can carry this,” you put the blanket in his hands. “An elderly woman gave it to me. I hope it will be large enough for you to use too. We may borrow it from each other, and I hope it gives us both warmth.”Â
Leshy slowly took the blanket, his fingers drifting over the stitches. He didn’t say anything, but looked very thoughtful. “That is…may I carry it with one arm? The way is dark, and you may need my guidance to not stumble.”Â
You knew his real request. He wanted to hold your hand again. But still, the offer was one that made sense. You had noticed some time ago that your friend’s vision was much more keen in the dark than yours.Â
“Yes, that would be alright.”
He bundled the thick quilt in one arm and held his hand out to you. You took it, swaying under the weight of your own pack. His large hand gripped firmly but not too tight. When you steadied yourself he led you forward.Â
“Did you have much success in the village?” he asked.Â
“Yes and no. It’s…complicated. I can tell you the full story once we reach the camp.”Â
He hummed in agreement.Â
“Have you fared well enough out here? I realize I did not leave you with much food.”
“I did not eat it,” he said, almost proudly. “You will find there is enough for you.”Â
“That was almost three days ago. I understand you do not like meat but surely you didn’t starve yourself?”
“Worry not,” he replied. “I am sturdy. I had found some roots to suffice.”Â
With his tendency to eat nearly poisonous plants that was a worrying statement in itself.
“I have also found many berries and dried them in the sun for you as well.”Â
Then, while he was walking, he unexpectedly stumbled. The hand that had been grasping the quilt shot up to his forehead for a moment, and he stilled.Â
“Are you alright?”Â
“Yes. I only…lost my footing.”Â
He resumed walking, but this time, you noticed, much more slowly.Â
In all the time you had known him, he had been strangely lithe and agile. Even despite his size, he moved with balance and speed. Something was wrong.Â
Before you had a chance to ask, there was a small light before you.Â
“Here we are!” he announced. “I have discovered how to keep a fire hot but still conceal its light. I will add more fuel to it for you, so we both may enjoy it.”Â
He carefully wrapped the blanket in itself and handed it to you. True to his word, he stoked the coals of the fire and added more fuel. As your eyes adjusted to the light, you saw now just how much work he had done.Â
Another crude bed, but this one was piled even higher with softer grasses and leaves than before. A lean-to shelter was constructed over it. On a flatter rock was some sort of roughly woven basket: the show of color underneath was the berries that he had been drying. Some thin sticks stripped of bark were nearby, and some of them had been tied with young inner growth bark to make crude cooking skewers. A pile of dry kindling was near the pit was dug for the fire, and large, dry rocks surrounded it.
“This is…impressive. All that work must have taken hours.”
“Days,” Leshy said, crouching by the fire to stoke it.Â
The firelight fell on his face and you were taken aback. Even with all of his deformities and scars, he looked worse than usual. The dark circles around his eyes seemed deeper, more purplish. His hair was tangled, and had some pieces of twigs and leaves stuck in it. Most alarming of all was a deep reddish-brown stain on the back of his neck, and you had suspected that the hood covered most of it.Â
“Leshy! Are you hurt?”Â
The giant’s hand gripped his cloak, pulling it up to conceal the mark. “It is nothing to be concerned about.”Â
“I’m concerned nonetheless. Answer me honestly, during the time I was gone, did you actually eat, sleep, or take care of yourself?”
He turned his face away from you, and rubbed his hands together. “I was restless. I understand you promised you would return, but…I was still uncertain. Civilization, with its warm houses and plentiful food, and the companionship of normal people, is alluring, even to me. If you did come back to me, I wanted you to…see that I, perhaps would still be of benefit to you. I cannot offer you much more than my service. So that is what I did offer.”Â
“You did all this because you thought I would regret coming back to you?”
“Yes,” he said quietly.Â
Knowing he was sensitive to touch, you put a hand on his shoulder. “Leshy, you cannot earn my friendship or loyalty.”Â
He looked at you, sunken eyes wide.Â
You put your hand up placatingly. “Nor should you have to. No one should. I said we were friends. We are. I said I would come back. I did. And more than the things you made for me, it would make me feel more at peace that you were well. If you have services to offer, I ask that you make that one most important. Now, tell me honestly, did you eat while I was gone?”
“I had some roots…”
“Alright. Did you sleep?”
“I do not require-”
“Not what I asked. Did you sleep?”
“No.”Â
“It’s fairly obvious you didn’t take care of your hair either. But what happened to your neck? May I see it?”Â
As you moved closer to tug at his cloak, he shied away. “I have…many scars. Sometimes, they open. It is a common occurrence, though, I have never had one bleed this badly. It is not harmful to me, and you may not wish to see it.”Â
“Unfortunately for you I do. I need to make sure it’s cleaned and cared for. And the next town I visit I will buy you a comb big enough for your hands-perhaps ones used for a horse, if I have to. Now if you really want to please me, you will do as I say: I will look at and clean that wound, I am going to get the leaves out of your hair, and you are going to eat some bread and sleep under that quilt tonight, and put as much of yourself on that bed you made.”Â
“But you-”
“Leshy. You are not a burden, if that is what you are worried about. Whatever needs you have to keep you well do not make you unworthy of my time or friendship.”Â
His shoulders softened and he relented. You pulled a roll of bread from your pack and pressed it into his hands. Then, pulling down the collar of his crude clothing, you used a cloth and water to dab away at the blood. You could tell it was uncomfortable. He hissed between bites, and it seemed that he was having some issues swallowing. You gave him another full water skin you had purchased and continued your work. Luckily, there was no swelling or any other concerns, and it seemed to have already closed itself up.Â
“I’m going to add this ointment over your scar,” you explained. “It’s been infused with some herbs that should help. And perhaps it will keep it from re-opening.”Â
It was lucky that you had bought some more medical supplies. He seemed to squirm slightly as you applied the ointment, and took the leaves and twigs from his tangled locks.Â
“I am very sorry,” he said. “You are…kinder than you should be. I should have known you’d try to help…” he seemed to choke up slightly, but recovered. “It must be disturbing for you to be this close to me. I will take care of myself so you do not feel obligated to.”Â
“That was not the meaning behind my request. Now please, you are overtired, go and rest now. I will keep watch tonight. I will not accept any objections.”Â
You handed him the quilt, and he wrapped it around his shoulders in a shaky, unsteady motion, and nodded, his now loose black waves swaying as he did so. Â
You saw him awkwardly curl up on the bed of leaves he had prepared for you, his feet far over the edge. But at least you were thankful that the quilt covered most of his torso.
“Bonne nuit,” he said in a shaky whisper. “And thank you.”Â
“You’re welcome,” you replied. “And good night.”Â
